This issue of the Highlights features an
excerpt from a new book, Enlightenment Blues: My
Years with an American Guru, by Andre van der
Braak. It is exclusive to the Highlights and reprinted with
permission of the publisher.

Enlightenment Blues is a
chronicle of eleven years with Andrew Cohen. The author came to a
place in his spiritual search where he was disillusioned with his
Buddhist meditation practice. He met Andrew, fell into deep love
and surrendered.

Life afterward played-out in an atmosphere
rich in ideals. The qualities of higher level
consciousness -- love - truth - transformation -- were constantly
impressed upon the followers. Cohen was an ideal representative
of the message of transformation. He was lovable, charismatic,
driven, smart, enlightened, and hugely capable of speaking about
enlightenment and his vision.

Yet control of devotees was managed via lower
level consciousness: humiliation, contempt, blame, rigidity,
punishment, and paranoia. This is the dichotomous Ashram. It is
experienced by the reader through van der Braak in a work that is
fully engaging.

Below is an excerpt. If you find yourself
drawn into this remarkable book, ordering information is given at
the end.

--Jerry

The satsangs start up again. I speak
with Andrew about my experience in Dayton, the hotels and
restaurants that were meaningless to me, the loneliness. He seems
to understand it all.

"When you have a longing for
liberation," he says, "you won't feel at home in the
world of materialism. When everyone only thinks about chasing
their own advantage, and is trying to become someone in the
world, it's understandable that you don't feel at home there.
Maybe it's a good idea to spend more time with like-minded
people."

He asks me whether I've ever just
"hung out" in my life. No, I haven't. He encourages me
to consider that idea.

There's so much I have to ask Andrew
about: enlightenment, Buddhism, spiritual practice. And what
about having to make an effort to become enlightened? In
answering this last question, Andrew looks at me directly with
his penetrating brown eyes. After a few seconds of silence, he
repeats to me what his own teacher told him, slowly stressing
every word and the space between, "You -- do -- not -- have
-- to -- make -- any -- effort -- to -- be --
free." He almost whispers. We continue to look into each
other's eyes. My mind is racing. Can this be true? Suddenly all
movement stops, and the moment seems to expand into eternity. In
this vast space that has suddenly opened up a thought presents
itself: enlightenment is not an object. You can't strive after it
or attain it. It is the very source of being itself, the source
of my own existence. It's actually impossible not to be
enlightened. It's only the stubborn arrogance of my mind that
prevents me from seeing this simple truth. Andrew smiles at me
then moves on to the next questioner. I sit as if in a daze. My
mind stays empty for what seems like an eternity.

When the evening ends I ride home
quietly on my bicycle. I feel a very new emotion arising within
me. I am falling in love with Andrew. I have always respected my
teachers, even to the point of veneration, but it was never love.
When I look into Andrew's eyes I feel myself melt. My resistances
are fading away, and I feel the way people usually feel about
lovers -- I want to be with him all the time.

When I'm with Andrew in satsang, I
feel myself melt into a pool of absolute bliss, a place
beyond good and evil, beyond conception itself. I feel he is in
direct contact with the source of all being, the source prior to
thought and feeling. It is the source in which I recognize
myself, my own true face. Andrew takes me to this place where I
no longer experience any separation or boundary between myself
and others, between past, present or future, between pain and
ecstasy. Andrew seems to radiate something that can counter all
that is evil; that can put the mind to rest. To sit still
together with Andrew brings a spontaneous meditation, no fight
with thoughts and feelings; just a slow, irreversible absorption
into the depths of consciousness. It all seems so spontaneous, so
easy, and yet there is something powerful emanating from Andrew.
I feel that higher forces are at work here.

Is this enlightenment that I'm
experiencing? I hardly dare think so. Me, enlightened? But I
can't deny that my whole being is shouting, "This is
it." I feel completely at home with myself and my life.
I feel an unbearable intimacy with the people around me in this
room, an intimacy that I can only call love. I am not worried,
deep inside in my guts I know that life is good, that there is no
problem, that there is peace. What more could I want? What else
could there be to strive after? I only see perfection wherever I
look. All questions that I had in Dayton have been answered.

I tell Andrew that I'm considering
following him to Devon. Does he think that's a good idea?
"If that's what you want to do, that's fine," he says.
"I'm not stopping you." I tell him about the fear that
I'm also experiencing, the fear of leaving behind my house and my
job, the fear of losing my life basically. "Don't expect the
fear to go away," he says, laughing, "It will get a lot
worse."

The next few days are agonizing. I
keep asking, "Why would I give up my whole life in
Amsterdam? What do I have to gain?" But the answer wells up
in my heart with increasing clarity: "Happiness, peace, deep
contentment; the answer to all my questions. Everything I've
always looked for in my search for enlightenment."

I write Andrew a note:

"After all my years of
spiritual practice I feel that enlightenment was never the number
one priority in my life. Thank you for helping me to finally get
my priorities straight. I have resolved my clarity of intention.
I am looking forward to seeing you in Devon in September."

With the note I put a hundred
guilders as a gift to help cover Andrew's expenses in Amsterdam.
The next evening in satsang, on his way out, Andrew stops next to
me, and shakes my hand, without saying anything. Then he walks
on. We see eye to eye now. A few days later I invite Andrew to
have dinner together, and he accepts. We go to an Indian
restaurant and talk freely together. I tell him about my
background in psychology and philosophy, he tells me about how he
never got good grades in school and had always envied people that
had those intellectual capacities. We have a lot of fun; there is
a tangible intimacy, no trace of pretense or any hierarchical
difference between us. It is like a date between two lovers. I am
over the moon. If Andrew is truly the Buddha of our time, then I
am now having a bowl of rice with the Buddha! What good fortune
that I've met Andrew. What good fortune that he and I can be such
good friends. What good fortune that the secret of enlightenment
has finally been revealed to me.

(pp. 22-25)

If you wish to continue the
journey over the next eleven years with the author and
Andrew Cohen, order Enlightenment Blues: My Years
with an American Guru. It reads like a breeze. Please
use the following link: http://tinyurl.com/sbz1